


When I Met You in the Summer

by greekythoughts



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, The Iliad - Homer, The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-02 01:41:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4040830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greekythoughts/pseuds/greekythoughts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patroclus meets Achilles on a hot summer day.  They slowly open up to each other as summer draws to an end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When I Met You in the Summer

It was hot and the sun was blazing over the sizzling road.  Patroclus was stretched on a foldable beach chair with his arm behind his head and the other held his iced tea. The wind chimes his mother insisted on hanging lulled Patroclus to a light sleep.  

Summer break was here.  

He was seventeen.  

It was summer.  

He should have plans with his friends.  Or friend.  He should have plans with his friend, Briseis.  They normally would.  Last summer they went to the beach.  A friend of Patroclus’ dad was looking for some part-timers for the summer.  They owned a small five-room summer house with a café added just recently.  Briseis and Patroclus worked at the summer house on the weekends and worked at the café during weekdays.  There wasn’t a lot to do at the summer house so they spend most of their time playing on the beach.  Patroclus smiled as he remembered the horrible tan he had.  He had fallen asleep under the umbrella and when he woke up his lower half was considerably darker than his upper half.  And the summer before that they went hiking and swam in the crisp, clean river they found accidentally.  And even before that, they visited Briseis’ family farm and occupied themselves with naming all the animals while her parents worked.  However, Briseis and her family had planned to go on a family  _only_ vacation this summer.  Meaning without Patroclus.  

He stood up, suddenly, realizing how pathetic he was.  He walked down the steps of their porch drink in hand.  Not knowing where to go, Patroclus followed where the wind blew.  He walked down the streets of his neighbourhood, upper class houses stood side by side uniformly seven meters away from the road. 

He walked for quite a while down the street sipping his now warm and mostly taste like water iced tea.  He reached a cul-de-sac and was about to go back when he heard something.  Music.  Someone was playing a harp.  That was unusual.  Patroclus looked around searching for the source of the music. 

“What are you doing?”  Patroclus heard someone call, loud in the quiet afternoon.

“Up here,” the voice said.  Patroclus looked up and saw a boy straddled on the window sill.  He swung his leg while he leaned on the frame of the window. 

“Are you the one playing the harp?”  Patroclus asked ignoring the boy’s question.

“It’s a lyre.  And yes,” he said, plucking the strings absently.  “What’s your name?”  He asked with casualness that might be mistaken for indifference.

“Patroclus.  And you?” Patroclus asked ignoring the other boy’s snobbishness.

“I’m Achilles.”

 


	2. Kick Off Your Sunday Shoes

_Achilles?_ The _Achilles? Isn’t he the star of the soccer team? I heard he beat someone up._

“So, you play the harp, huh. I mean the lyre,” Patroclus stammered. He brought his hands to his lips, zipped his mouth shut, and started walking away.

He thought he heard him call out but that was impossible. _The_ Achilles wouldn’t spare a second for people like him. Good-looking, athletic, wealthy, charismatic, and now a musician. He was incomparable.

That was the first time Patroclus has seen Achilles. Usually there would be a crowd around him, making it impossible for anyone outside the swarm of students to even get a small glimpse of him. _He is beautiful._ Patroclus had a glimpse and it was enough. _He is beautiful._

He was walking home absentmindedly, his thoughts elsewhere. _What is Achilles like; when he laughs? Does he tell jokes: puns? Did he really beat someone up? He looks like someone who could beat someone up. I hope he won’t beat me up. I’d hate that._

* * *

The next day, Patroclus found himself in the same situation as yesterday. The only difference was the orange juice in his hand. He sighed. He contemplated on going to the pool. There were a couple of reasons why he should go; it’s hot, they have an indoor pool, he might as well sit and drink his juice in the pool where it’s not sweltering, there’s nothing better to do.

He downed his orange juice, went to his room and packed some extra clothes.

“I’m going to the pool, Mom!” He called out as he rushed downstairs towards the kitchen.  After packing some light snacks, he pecked his mother’s cheek and grab the car keys from the coffee table.

“Who are you going with?” Philomela asked watching his son moving to and fro.

“With Achilles.”

* * *

He parked his mom’s black SUV in front of Achilles’ window. He turned off the engine and sat inside. Breathe in, breathe out.

“Hey.”

Patroclus jerked back. “Oh my god,” he gasped. “You surprised me.” He look to his left and sure enough it was Achilles.

Patroclus didn’t notice from where he stood the first time they met, but Achilles’ hair reached past his jaw and curled at the ends. It was as smooth as honey and it glistened like gold. Achilles’ eyes were deep green which seemed to pop out in contrast to his hair.

“What are you doing here?” Achilles asked.

“Do you want to go to the pool with me?” Patroclus deliberated, clutching the steering wheel as he said it.

“Why?”

“Because it’s summer? And I’m not doing anything and you seem free so we might as well go to the pool together…” Patroclus mumbled as he saw Achilles’ unchanging expression.

Seeming to consider the offer, Achilles looked at him blankly then said, “Wait for me,” and rushed back to the house.

It took Achilles less than five minutes to pack his bag, trade his runners for flip-flops, and overall look like someone who was ready to go to the pool.

“Let’s go,” he said and Patroclus opened the door of the front passenger seat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is another short chapter. I'll work on the next one as soon as possible.


	3. Here Comes the Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed Patroclus' age from 16 to 17.

As soon as Achilles got in the car he asked, “Do you mind?” He tapped the stereo with his phone.

“No, go ahead,” Patroclus said as he turned the car around.  “What do you listen to?”

“A mix of everything.  Classical, jazz, hip-hop, rap, R&B, indie, and so on,” he listed.  “I just like music,” he shrugged.  He plugged in his audio jack and scrolled through his playlist.  Achilles reached over to adjust the volume.  There were freckles sprayed from his hand to his arm, under his sleeves.  His long, slender finger turned the knob to let the music flow.  The sound of bass and synthesizer filled the car.

“You thinking of pursuing it in post-secondary?”  Patroclus asked, the question rolling off his tongue naturally, as if they were long-time friends.

“Why are you so interested?”  Achilles urged, leaning to the side to face Patroclus.  “Why did you invite me to the pool?  We barely know each other,” he stated, matter-of-factly.  

_Maybe because it’s summer and I’m seventeen._

“I want to get to know you,” Patroclus replied, sneaking a quick look at Achilles’ face.

“Why?”  He demanded, a scowl appearing on his faultless face.

“Because you don’t look like you would pummel someone almost to death.  The rumors about you,” Patroclus shook his head, “I want to know if they are true.  No,”  He stopped the car and looked at Achilles.  “I want to know more about the boy who was playing the lyre at home on a wonderful summer day.  Will you let me?”

Achilles turned to look out the window.  “Maybe,” he mumbled. 

* * *

The pool was about fifteen minutes away from Achilles’ house by car.  They arrived at the pool at around 3.  They headed towards the showers after showing their membership card to the staff.  After stuffing their belongings into the lockers, they showered, then stepped out into the pool area.

The place was filled with a lethargic atmosphere.  Most people get drowsy around this time of the day especially in the summer.  The shallower area of the pool was filled with kids and their parents.  Beach balls were tossed around; the ones that drifted too far were abandoned, parents too tired to pursue them.  

Seeing the two empty lanes, they jogged to claim it.  They stood on their lanes, securing goggles, Achilles tying his hair back.  His muscles moved, rising and falling as he stretched.

“I used to compete,” Achilles spoke, surprising Patroclus from his thoughts.  

“Why did you stop?”

Achilles thought for a moment.  “I don’t remember.  I got bored, probably.”

“I never competed in any sports,” Patroclus confessed.  “I was too slow for track and field and too uncoordinated for team sports.  My dad taught me how to swim hoping that I could at least be good at one thing.”  Patroclus shrugged, “I’m decent.”

They both jumped down into the pool, the cool water rejuvenating their sun dried skin.  Patroclus came up for air to see Achilles speeding of with powerful kicks.  He passed the five meter mark in under three seconds.  Patroclus watched him.  His arms precise and efficient.  He cut through the water like a dolphin.  His turn was instantaneous.  As he pushed off, he seemed to get even faster.  Even without looking at the clock, Patroclus knew Achilles had beaten the record.  

“Are you serious?”  Achilles heard Patroclus hiss as he emerged from under the water.  “You’re amazing.  You just set the record. That was under 20 seconds, Achilles.”

“Was it,” Achilles said, like he expected it.  

After watching Achilles swim, Patroclus lost all the strength in his legs.  His knees were shaking.   _It would be like swimming in molasses.  Compared to Achilles, I would be seen in slow motion._

Patroclus climbed out of the pool.  “Where are you going?”  Achilles asked, looking up at Patroclus.  

“I’m just gonna go get a drink,” Patroclus replied, without looking back. 

* * *

Patroclus sat on the bench in front of their locker a bottle of water in his hand.  Effortless, that’s what it look like.  Everything Achilles did was effortless while Patroclus relied on effort alone.  The way he played the lyre, the way he walked, the way he tied his hair.   _Precise, efficient, and effortless.  Incomparable._

Patroclus sighed.  

“Hey.”

Patroclus looked up.  Achilles stood in front of him, water dripping from his hair to his shoulders, rolling down his bare chest.

“Hey,” he replied, tossing him a towel.  “Sorry for back there.  I wasn’t feeling well.”

“Are you jealous?”  Achilles asked.

Patroclus stared at him, searching his eyes.  His golden locks darkened, straightened except for the tips.  

“No,” he said, finally.  “No, I’m not jealous.”  And it was true.  He wasn’t jealous.  There was a beauty in Achilles that was almost divine.  Unattainable.  Achilles was the sun.  Patroclus will not burn himself beside him.

 

 


	4. Hate to See Your Heart Break

They went back to the pool and did a couple more laps.  Patroclus visibly tired, panting after swimming 250 meters continuously.  Achilles, on the other hand, exhaled once as he emerged after swimming twice as much as Patroclus did.  

"Achilles! I never thought I'd see you here.  I thought you had a pool at your house," a hearty voice boomed from behind Patroclus.

“Hector,” Achilles nodded in acknowledgement.  "We have a pool," he admitted, looking up.

Hector reached down, offering Achilles a hand.  He accepted and grabbed onto Hector's brawny arm.  Their arm muscles flexed as Achilles was pulled smoothly from the pool.  

“Did you come with someone?"  

“Patroclus,” Achilles said. His voice flowed like a stream, gentle  and clear, enveloped him.   _Patroclus._

Patroclus twitched a smile as Hector regarded him from on high.    He offered Patroclus his hand as he did with Achilles.  Patroclus kindly accepted.  

“I’m Hector.  Nice to meet you, Patroclus,” Hector said with a smile that reached his eyes, his hand shaking Patroclus’ enthusiastically.

“Likewise.” Patroclus smiled.  He didn’t know that much about Hector.  He knew he was in the soccer team with Achilles, that he has a younger brother in our grade; Paris, that his heart was as big as he was.  

“We’re on the deep end,” Hector said, letting Patroclus’ hand go, looking back and forth from Achilles to Patroclus.  “If you want to join us,” this one he said directly to Patroclus.  

Patroclus stared at Achilles waiting for his opinion.  He said nothing.  Patroclus agreed.  They walked together, the three of them, to the other end of the pool.  

The pool was divided—four huge blocks lined up together side by side—in half.  On the first twenty-five meters, the deepest came up to Patroclus' shoulders.  The second half, however, was so deep that if you dropped something, it would be nigh impossible to get it unless; you’re a diver with gear on, you have a really, really long claw grabber, or drain the entire pool.  The extreme depth of the pool made Patroclus shiver.  He stood at the edge of the pool, staring, contemplating his infinitesimal, inconsequential life.  

“You okay?”  

“Uhuh,” Patroclus muttered.  

“I’m just gonna go meet the others.  I’ll come back as soon as possible.” Achilles strode towards the diving boards.  There was a five meter, a ten meter, and a fifteen meter board.  As a bonus for the thrill seekers, there was a 73 meter water slide.  People were lining up behind the water slide, shouting and taunting the person on top to “Do it!”  He saw Achilles laughing as they pushed him towards the fifteen meter board.  He smiled as Patroclus caught his eye.  He relaxed his shoulders, touched his toe, exhaled.  He ran up towards the end of the board, bending his knees as he pushed his body upwards.  His arms reached up then closed into himself as he did a graceful somersault.  

“How did he even know how to do that?”  Patroclus turned, hearing Hector mumble beside him.  He looked back at the pool to see Achilles swim to the ladder.

“How did you meet Achilles?”  Hector asked, not unkindly.  

“I saw him when I was out for a walk.”  Patroclus answered, leaving out some details.  “We talked about music.”

“He’s a good kid,” he stated.  

“I know.”

“Don’t hurt him.”

“Why would I?”

“He likes you.”

“What?”

“Hey.”

They both turned when they heard Achilles coming up behind them.

“Is something wrong?”  Achilles asked.  

“Nothing,” Patroclus babbled.  “Nothing’s wrong.  I’m good.  I’m good.”  He pushed his hair back, a nervous gesture.

“He’s embarrassed,” Hector nudged.  “I told him you li—”  Patroclus reached up—Hector was about half a foot taller than Patroclus—to cover Hector’s mouth before he said more.  

“I what?”  Achilles asked, his hand twitched on his side.  

“Nothing.  Nothing,” Patroclus dismissed.  On Hector’s ear, he whispered, “Don’t say anything else.  Please,” and let go.

Achilles stared at Patroclus and Hector’s closeness.  “I’m going home,” he said and walked between them, bumping their shoulders.

“I told you,” Hector said brushing his shoulder against Patroclus.

“Stop,” Patroclus begged. He left Hector on his spot beside the pool, chuckling.

* * *

“Achilles,” Patroclus panted.   _He walks so damn fast._  “Achilles, wait.”   _My god.  I’m so tired.  This is the most exercise I’ve had since the beginning of summer_.

“What?”  Achilles stopped, suddenly, and turned, a fraction of an inch.  He was scowling.

“Are you mad?”  Patroclus asked, surprised.

“No, why would I be.”  His eyes were focused on the ground.

“You’re not looking at me.”

Achilles turned his body completely and lifted his head.  Any trace of emotion suddenly left his face.

“Are you jealous?”  Patroclus asked, carefully wading through Achilles’ heart.

They stared at each other.  No one spoke.  It was just them; Patroclus and Achilles.  The entire world.

“No.”

 


	5. This Man is My Destiny

Jealousy.  It wasn’t a familiar feeling for Achilles.  Like most feelings, he had never experienced it.  He had everything he needed, wanted, and more.  But there was something, like a forgotten memory, plaguing his every waking hour.  The moment he saw Patroclus, that forgotten memory bubbled up from his mind.  He felt a tug inside him, incessant and demanding.  

Was he jealous?  He remembered Patroclus’ arms wrapped around Hector.  Patroclus’ hand over Hector’s mouth.  Patroclus’ mouth against Hector’s ear.  His breath as he spoke ruffled Hector’s dark hair.  Was he jealous?

Achilles was standing under the running water of the pool’s empty shower.  Why hadn’t he left yet?   _What are you waiting for?_

“Achilles.”

Achilles.  The way he said his name.   _Achilles_ ; soft and sweet.  

Achilles turned the shower off, water dripped on the knob; _plop, plop, plop._

“Achilles,” he said again.

“I don’t know what I feel, Patroclus,” he said, eyes closed.  “I don’t know how to feel.”  

“Do you like me?  I mean as a friend.  Do you consider me your friend?”  Patroclus approached him, water splashed and sloshed.  

“Yes.”

“Then that’s ok.”  Patroclus offered a smile.  “Do you wanna grab a bite before you go home?”

* * *

They were sitting inside a Starbucks beside a window, people walking by on the other side.

“Why are we here again?”  Achilles sighed, tapping his hands restlessly.

“Because we forgot to bring money and I work here,” Patroclus repeated.

“At least you have  granola bars.”

“Patroclus!”  The barista raised their drinks.

“I’ll get it.”  Achilles stood up before Patroclus could say anything.  He strode towards the counter.  The barista, whose name was, Achilles peeked, Cassandra, bashfully smiled at him.

“Here are your drinks: one tall chocolate smoothie and one tall sweet greens smoothie,” she listed.  “And don’t worry about the money, I wrote it off on Patroclus account.”

“Can you put that under my name instead?  I’ll come by after.  Here I’ll give you my name and number, if you need it.”  Cassandra, the barista, nodded with a smile and handed him a pen and a void receipt to write his information on.  

He walked back towards their table, drinks in each hand.  He slid the chocolate smoothie towards Patroclus.  

“Did you just give your number to Cassandra?”  Patroclus whispered, leaning in towards Achilles.  Achilles leaned in, instinctively, his eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, why?”  Achilles asked, eyes wide with curiosity.  

“Do you just give your number away to anyone who asks?”

“She didn’t ask.  I gave it to her.”

“Why would you?”

“I told her I’ll pay for the drink and I gave her my info just in case.”

“I told you I’ll pay for it,” Patroclus frowned.  He stood up.

Achilles grabbed his wrist, automatically, and tugged him down.  “Let me pay.”

Patroclus stared at Achilles’ hand on his wrist.  Achilles’ hands were soft, but he held his wrist harder than need-be.  

Achilles saw him staring.  He let go of Patroclus’ wrist.  His hand was warmer, tingling.  Achilles sipped his smoothie.

“I’ll pay next time,” Patroclus grumbled, sitting down.  

“There’s a next time?  I hope it’s not gonna be in another Starbucks.”

* * *

Patroclus drove Achilles home at around 6:30.  The sun was still above the horizon, tinting the sky orange and pink.

Achilles stepped out of the car, his bag slung over his shoulders.  He closed the door with a soft thump.  He walked towards the front door.

“I’ll see you next time,” Achilles said, slightly turning back.

“I look forward to it,” he heard Patroclus answer, a smile clear in his voice.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow i'm not thinking things through  
> clare ---> cassandra


	6. Shut Up and Dance with Me

“Where were you?  Were you out all day today?”  Achilles looked up as he stood at the threshold. His dad, Peleus, stood at the end of the stairs, mid step.

“I went to the pool with a friend,” Achilles stated.

“May I know who this friend is?”

“His name is Patroclus," he murmured.  "I’ll introduce him to you next time.”  Achilles' phone buzzed on his pocket.  He checked it and saw a number he didn't recognize.  

_Hi!  This is Cassandra, the barista at Starbucks.  You can pay for the drinks tomorrow.  I forgot to tell you that the café is closing early today._

_Hey, Cassandra_ , Achilles typed.   _Thanks for telling me._  Send.

 _I have a favour to ask._  Send.

 _Do you know Patroclus' number?_  Send.

"I'll be in my office," Peleus cleared his throat.  

"Oh, sorry, dad,"  Achilles remembered.  "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, son," he replied, ruffling Achilles' hair.  "Dinner's still on the table if you haven't eaten yet."

After he ate the dinner Phoenix, his  old caretaker and a family friend, cooked, he went to his room.  With a loud huff, he threw himself on his bed.  Raising the phone over his face, he read the incoming message.  A smile slowly spread across his face. 

* * *

_Immortal Aphrodite, on your intricately brocaded throne,_

_child of Zeus, weaver of wiles, this I pray:_

_Dear Lady, don’t crush my heart_

_with pains and sorrows._

 

Patroclus was lying down on his back, his stomach bloated after drinking his smoothie and having to eat a full dinner with his mom.  He was looking at his phone.   _Who could this be?_

_Um… Sorry, but who is this?_

_As the wind blew towards me_

_I could smell your scent_

_Of hyacinth and honeysuckle_

_The incoming storm_

_Wild like the roaring_

_Waves lashing at my_

_Sadden ecstasy_

_Beloved stay with me_

 

Patroclus read the poem over and over again.  It wasn’t one that he was familiar with like the one before, written by Sappho.  He didn’t reply back.  Instead, he stared at the screen until he fell asleep.

* * *

Patroclus was standing at the cash register.  He worked during the weekends, and sometimes when they were shorthanded.  He got another poem from the unknown person messaging him.  It was the second day and he received about six poems already.

Patroclus wished he could talk to Briseis.  He didn’t know how to handle this situation.  He should have found the messages creepy, but instead he looked forward to receiving the next one.  The poems were heartbreaking at times and incredibly cheesy at other.  The poems reminded him of something—or someone—but he couldn’t quite pinpoint what it is.  

It was particularly hot today.  Patroclus’ back was beaded with sweat under his uniform.  The air conditioner wasn’t helping much since people were coming in and out of the café.  

“I’d like to order one smokin’ hot Patroclus.”

Shaking himself from his reverie, he saw Briseis standing in front of the counter wearing a yellow chiton dress that came up to her knees, her hair tied in a loose braid.  

“Briseis!”  Patroclus went around, running up to hug Briseis.  He encircled his arms around her waist, lifting her up.  He buried his face on the crook of her neck and kissed her cheek.  “I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”  She beamed, her arms clutching Patroclus’ shoulder.

“Aren’t you back early?”  He set her down.  Briseis had freckles over her nose and cheeks.  Her blue eyes stood out against her dark hair.

“Something came up with dad’s work.”  She smiled, “Anything good happen while I was gone?”

“I met—,” he stopped mid sentence as he saw Achilles come in with his friends.  Their eyes met.  Achilles smiled then his gaze slid over to Briseis.  With a puzzled look, he turned back to his friends who were animatedly talking about something trivial.

“—someone,” he continued.  

“Like someone, _someone._  Or did you just meet a new friend?”  Briseis implored, she squinted.  

“Patroclus!”  Antilochus interrupted their conversation.   “Back to the counter.”  As a side note, he smiled, “Hey, Briseis.  Looking good as always,” and winked.  Briseis sighed.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Briseis promised as she left the café to walk under the summer sun. 

* * *

 “Patroclus.” Briseis gasped.  “Do you really not know who sent you these messages?”  They were sitting on the floor of Patroclus' room.  The air conditioner was whirring, summer sun streamed in through the blinds.

“No, that’s why I asked you to help me out.  Briseis, you overestimate me.”  They were sprawled beside each other, pillows were scattered around them.  Briseis was curled up to the side, Patroclus' phone in front of her nose.

“Who did you meet?”  She asked, remembering their conversation this morning.

“Achilles.”

Briseis frowned.  “Pelides?”  Her nose wrinkled.  

“He’s not bad,” Patroclus argued, seeing her disdain.

“If you say so,” she allowed.  “I know who sent these,” she said, scrolling through the messages.

“Really?  Who?”

“Achilles.”

Patroclus inhaled, "No way." 

“Yes way,”  Briseis rolled over to Patroclus.  “See this,” she gestured at the second poem he received.  “A-C-H-I-L-L-E-S.”

* * *

 Achilles was seating beside the pool, his feet splashing the water.  He was thinking of the next poem to write.  He knew it was weird.  He knew it was weird, but it made him feel better.  Achilles had seen him yesterday.  Patroclus’ hands had been resting on a girl's waist.  He had seen him smiling down at her like Achilles had never known he could.  

 

_Darling, you’re the sun_

_Setting my world aflame_

_If only I could keep you, my love,_

_From shining on someone else_

 

Send.  He sat there for awhile, the heat of summer making him doze off.  Achilles wasn’t sure if he was jealous, but there was one thing he was sure about: He liked Patroclus.  He liked the way he smiled, the way he said Achilles’ name, his gentleness.  

His phone vibrated on his hands.  Without looking at the caller, he picked up.  “Yeah?”

“Achilles?”

 _Shit._  He didn’t say anything.  What could he say?  He was sending poetry to someone he just met a week ago.  To top it off, Achilles didn’t even ask him directly for his number.  He was such a creep.

“It is you, isn’t it?  I know it’s you.  Briseis saw your name on one of the poems.”

_Briseis._

“Is that the name of your girlfriend?”  Achilles snapped.  He heard the sharpness of his voice and immediately felt bad.  “I didn’t —.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Patroclus said.  

“I’m sorry.  I’ll stop.  I won’t—,”

“I said, I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“I know you said that before—.”

“Will you go out with me, Achilles?”

Achilles' grip on his phone loosened. It clattered beside him.  He watched it fall off the side of the pool.  With a splash, Achilles realized what just happened.


	7. Be My Forever

Patroclus was running as fast as his legs could take him.  All he could hear was the beating of his heart and the rush of the wind.  Sweat trickled down his forehead, to the side of his face.  He wasn’t really sure what happened, but it sounded dangerous.  

He reached Achilles’ house, breathless and sweaty.  “Achilles!”  Patroclus called out, worry written all over his face.  “Achilles!”  He was considering climbing the fence that lead to their backyard when he saw a tuft of blond hair peeking through the gate.  Achilles came out fully clothed and soaking wet.

“Wha—,” Patroclus stammered.  “What happened?”  He rushed over towards Achilles.  Patroclus had the urge to wipe Achilles’ hair to the side, hook it behind his ear.  

“I dropped my phone in the pool,” Achilles said, shaking his head.  Drops of water splattered on Patroclus’ shirt, darkening as the water seeped through the material.  “It’s busted,” he said, waving his soddened phone.

“About what I said before…” Patroclus began, reluctantly.  All his confidence over the phone was washed away by Achilles’ presence.  

Achilles’ gaze fell on his feet.  Blood rushed to his cheeks, staining his sun-kissed skin red.  “I—.”

“I mean, like, I understand if you don’t want to go out with me,” Patroclus interjected.  “There are so many reasons why you wouldn’t want to.  But, like, if you want to, then that’s good.”  He was babbling.  He knew.  “Like, you’re pretty.  Cool.  Pretty cool.  You’re pretty cool.”  His palms were sweating.  He should just shut up.  “I can’t say much about myself, but…”

He was mumbling to himself  when Achilles started laughing, pure and carefree.  His laugh was like the wind chimes on Patroclus’ front porch, calming him.  Suddenly, everything seemed brighter.  Rays of sunlight beamed down on Achilles, setting aglow his golden hair.  His eyes sparkled, the corners wrinkled as he laughed.

“I can make you happy,” Patroclus said.  “I will make you happy.”

Achilles’ laugh dwindled down.  His eyes shining.  “I’d like that,” he smiled.  “I’d really like that.”  

Patroclus had never seen something so captivating, so painfully beautiful.  His heart ached.

* * *

“You know,” Patroclus started.  They were lying on their backs beside Achilles’ pool.  His hand swirling on his side, making ripples in the still water.  Achilles was idly strumming a guitar, quietly humming a self-composed song.  “It’s been three days and I still haven’t received any poems.”

“ _Honey, I hope you stay / Keep me company, keep me at bay,_ ” Achilles sang, strumming his guitar.  He stared up at Patroclus from where he lay.

_There’s an animal in me_

_Please, drown me at sea_

_Chain me up on a tree_

_‘Cause, darling, I just can’t leave you be_

He continued, his lilting voice flowing around them.  When he was finished he said, “That should be worth three poems.”  He let the last chord linger, the string vibrated under his finger.  “Well?  What do you thi—?”  Achilles stopped, abruptly.  Patroclus had his arm over his face to hide his flushed face.

“What are you blushing for?”  Achilles pulled Patroclus’ foot.  Achilles, himself, was burning.  “You asked for it,” he said, tugging Patroclus towards him.

“I know. I know, I did,”  Patroclus mumbled, his hands muffling his voice.  “But, still…”

“Stop blushing,” Achilles tugged harder now.  He set aside his guitar, far from the pool.  Patroclus still had his hands over his face.  

“I can’t just will it to stop,” Patroclus muttered.  He felt Achilles release his ankle.  He wanted to look, to tell him to keep holding.  Before he could move his hand, he felt a weight on his chest.  He looked down and saw Achilles resting his head, staring at him.

 _Too close._  “Achilles.”

“You’re still blushing,” he said.

“How could I not.”  Patroclus ran his fingers through Achilles’ hair.  His smooth curls flowed uninterrupted.   He stroked Achilles’ cheek, brushing his skin softly.  

“You are so gentle,” Achilles said, his eyes closed.  He took Patroclus’ hand in his and pressed it to his lips.  They stayed there for a while, unmoving.  

“Achilles,” Patroclus said, breaking the silence.  “How did the fight start?”

Achilles was surprised by the question.  Their hands untangled from each other.  He sat up, his face stone cold.  “He insulted me.”

“What did he say?”

Achilles glared.  “I don’t want to talk about it.”  Without looking at Patroclus, he added, “Not now.”

“Achilles,” Patroclus grabbed his arm as he was about to leave.  “When you want to, I’ll be here.”

“I hope not,” he said, his smile returning.  “It’s gonna be hard to explain to my dad why there’s a boy living in our pool.”  

* * *

This time they were in Achilles’ room.  He was playing the piano, singing.  “ _We're on top of the world / We're on top of the world / Now darling, so don't let go / Can I call you mine? / So can I call you mine now, darling / For a whole lifetime? / My heart finally trusts my mind / And I know somehow it's right._

“Patroclus, sing with me.”

_And, oh, we got time, yeah_

_So darling, just say you'll stay right by my side_

_And, oh, we got love, yeah_

_So darling, just swear you'll stand right by my side_

Patroclus sang.  He couldn’t remember the last time he did.  Or the last time he felt this happy.  He sang his heart out, his voice breaking on the high notes.  Achilles laughed, his voice as sweet as summer rain.  

_You're my bright blue sky_

_You're the sun in my eyes_

_Oh, baby, you're my life_

_You're the reason why_

* * *

Patroclus had forgotten about the heat.  The sun glaring at them from above used to be a torment.  Now he basked under it, savoring it.  

Achilles was invited to play soccer with some of his friends.  They were on the soccer field, just past ten.  Sitting in a circle, they waited for the other players to come.  Achilles had introduced Patroclus to Automedon and Hector’s brothers as his “friend”.  Not like Patroclus could complain.  They would figure it out eventually.  They probably will figure it out at the end of the day.  After all, they sat so close to each other they were practically glued together.  Two halves making a whole.

“I heard there was a game today,” someone barked behind Patroclus.  He felt Achilles stiffen beside him.  Patroclus turned to his side to look at the approaching person.  Raising his hand to shield his eyes from the sun, he watched—not one, but two people—approach them.  They loomed over Patroclus,  their shadows oppressing.  Looking at the first person closely, Patroclus could make out the trace of bruises and stitches on the bear-like boy.  From where Patroclus sat, the boy, or more accurately, the man—for he was bigger and bulkier than any boy Patroclus had ever met—towered over him like a king sitting atop his throne, callous and condescending.  Patroclus didn’t judge a book by it’s cover, but he did have preferences.  This bear-like boy was, unfortunately, not one of his favourites.

“Finally coming out, eh, Achilles.”

One moment Achilles was beside him, frozen stiff.  The next he was face to face with the bear-boy, his fist pulling on the collar of his shirt.  “Keep your mouth shut if you don’t want me to shut it again for you.”

_Again?  What did he mean “again”?  Was this the guy he beat up? My god…_

Everyone was standing.  The tension in the air was fragile and suffocating.  They held their breaths waiting for the taut wire to finally snap.  

“Achilles?”  Patroclus admitted he was scared.  The Achilles he knew was gentle, someone who plays the piano like he was caressing a lover, someone who loved to be caressed himself.  Patroclus knew this side of Achilles, yet it was like a slap of cold water.  There was a savage look in his eyes, something Patroclus had never seen, but known was there, dwelling in him.  He wanted to say his name again.  To snap him out of his rage.  

With a shove, Achilles let go of his collar.  “I’m leaving.”  He grabbed his bag and left.  Patroclus, close behind.

“Don’t be so dramatic Achilles.  We’re here to play soccer, aren’t we?”  Said the guy who came with the bear-boy.  

“As if I’m playing with that asshole,” Achilles said without turning back.

* * *

“Achilles,” Patroclus panted, chasing after Achilles and feeling a sense of déjà vu.  “Wait.”  Achilles didn’t look back, but he slowed down his pace, infinitesimally.  His shoulders were hunched as if walking through a storm.  I guess he was, Patroclus thought.  

“Are you gonna tell me what happened back there?”  Patroclus asked.  

“It’s not that I don’t want to.  It’s just that I can’t.”  He said.  Hurt, or something close to it, fell like raindrops from a roof.  “It’s humiliating and I can’t have you looking at me with pity or disgust.  I just can’t.  I wouldn’t be able to bear it.”

“Do you really think I’m that kind of person?”  Patroclus said.  “Do you think me so shallow that I would start to hate you just because of that?”  

“No.”

“Then tell me.  No secrets, you promised me that.”

“Some other day.”  Achilles said.  Patroclus couldn’t stand looking at him so defeated.  He was supposed to be the golden boy, always bright.  He will let him have his peace, if that was what he needed.  

“I love you.  You know that, right?”  Patroclus said, bumping his shoulders on Achilles’.

“I hope it’s enough,” Achilles said.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song when Achilles was playing the piano is Be My Forever by Christina Perri featuring Ed Sheeran.


End file.
